


War Awoke A Taste

by MellytheHun



Series: Kylux Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Jedi Ben Solo, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Survival, They're Both Very Bad At This, Tumblr Prompt, War, evil space ginger, wounded Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Resistance Jedi Ben Solo finds General Hux in a trench during inclement weather, is stuck with him for several days, and his motives begin to waver.Tumblr prompt:Anonymous asked: Kylux, "Come home with me"





	War Awoke A Taste

Finding the same hiding spot as the deeply feared, revered, and widely pursued General Hux of the First Order is just Ben’s luck.

And he means that - how much more lucky can a guy get in the Resistance?

General Hux, injured, unarmed, and unconscious in a trench? Why not just deliver him to the base’s entry gates with a ribbon tied up on top?

Ben considers making up a more heroic story about his capture of the wily, war criminal, for when he gets back, because reporting back, 'I don't know, I just found him on the ground, and took him back with me,' isn't entirely a thrilling saga.

When the General wakes up seething in pain, holding his side, Ben comes to take a closer look at it, because it won't do to have the General die before he can be questioned, and used as a weapon against the inferno he, himself, created.

Ben frowns down at the General; he’s got a pretty serious wound to his side, and the blood loss has left his complexion wanting. He’s a pale guy, anyway, too - it’ll probably scar deeply.

When Ben offers to heal him, thinking it the fair, kind thing his mother would want him to do, the General sneers dangerously at him.

“Why in the Hells would you do that? You’re only going to kill me. Get it done with now.”

Considering this, Ben confesses inwardly that it would make the most sense. In fact, in may be a more merciful end to the General than whatever the Resistance has planned.

Ben’s mouth slants, as he decides, “I don’t really like unfair fights. I’ve got a blaster, you’re already hurt - I’m not gonna fight you like this.” 

The torrential downpour of acidic rain, common on this planet, is honestly probably more forgiving than the glance General Hux gives him.

His icy eyes sharpen, narrow, and he bites out, “you’re underestimating me. I can take that blaster from you, and kill you with it at any moment - I might be hurt, but my reflexes are quite fine. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you, either.”

“I know,” Ben replies, crouching down to sit across from the General, “That’s the difference between you and me.”

The General rolls his eyes. 

They’re _very_ blue.

“I pray there's a million more reasons to differentiate us."

It takes maybe two, or three hours, but then; "yes, though,” the General eventually mutters, “I suppose it is.”

 

* * *

 

It only takes two standard days of non-stop acid rain for the General to finally ask (demand, really) that Ben heal him.

Ben does so contentedly, glad to be of some use (other than guarding the blood diamond that is the General), and the General, unexpectedly, remarks on how "unique," and "fascinating," the power of the Force is. It’s probably delirium caused by the pain speaking, but it’s still remarkably sweet of him to compliment Ben's powers (which he does; so much so, Ben is compelled to thank him for the compliments, and the General simply waves him off, as though it were not exceptional that he is, apparently, polite, and interested in the feats of others).

"It is not a weakness to acknowledge the strengths, skills, and wonders of one's opposition. In fact, I think it foolhardy of old men in my line of work to think it a discredit to themselves, if they do credit others," the General tells him, "You have immense power, and great skill and flexibility within it. It is not a compliment; it's an acknowledgement of reality. It just so happens that reality is flattering for you."

Ben’s face feels a little flushed; he knows stories about the General, horrible stories, but none painted him quite right.

No stories he’s heard of General Hux made him as plainly human as he appears to be in this trench.

Insomuch that it would have been impossible to convey how much elbow he seems to be made up of. Odd things, like that; that he looks like a fiery cockatoo when his hair is mussed, his lips twitch before he sneezes, and he can become so preoccupied with getting dirt out from under his nails that he'll forget he's, essentially, a prisoner of war. 

No one every mentioned in their stories that the General speaks softly, he enunciates perfectly, and even under intense pain, he keeps a level-head, speaking clearly, concisely. He’s a man of few words, but when he does speak, those words are often perfectly timed, and very meaningful.

At some point, Ben mentions that he'd like a five course meal, starving as he is, openly imagining all the dishes he loves best. He mentions that, had he those things, he'd even share them with General Hux; and to that, the General mutters, "mm. 'Yet war awoke a taste for fairy story, which reflected the extremes of light and darkness he saw around him.'"

"I don't know that I understand," Ben admits sheepishly. 

"Not to worry. Few ever do," the General said simply back.

It occurs to Ben then, that the General is likely thinking these are his last days alive.

His patient, uncensored thoughts speak to a tragic sort of life, when he sleepily makes confessions.

If Ben felt like getting strangled, he’d even tell the General that he doesn’t sound all too interested in defending the Order, as much as he’s interested in being what he thinks everyone wants him to be.

Based on what the General has told him during candid moments of talkativeness, it seems the General wouldn't have done or been all he's done or been, had it not been for the threat of his father hanging over his head.

If being murdered in a trench by the General during a marathon of acid rain _were_ appealing, though, Ben might even tell the General that he’s felt that way before as well - that there’s a way out. That he could be whatever he might like to be, and that, although his father raised him in it, there is more to the world than the Order. That he could defect, seek redemption. Maybe even find it.

The General would probably sooner gouge his own eyes out before sharing such a vulnerable part of himself with Ben, though.

He’s an interesting man.

Ben thinks it is too bad the Resistance _will_ likely kill him.

 

* * *

 

It’s on the fifth standard day that Ben wakes, startled, his head in the General’s lap, body having betrayed him in his sleep - likely looking for warmth, and human comforts. When he's aware of what position he's in, he shoots upright, dizzy the moment he does.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep - he looks at the General in confusion.

The General stares stoically back at him, and explains, “you fainted. Been awake too long without proper sustenance, I'd think. I’ve been hiding a canteen of clean water. I gave you some, when you were semi-conscious. Reserve your energy, though. Lie down, and focus on breathing.”

The General is speaking, but Ben doesn’t really register anything beyond the fact that his blaster is still in its holster.

The General had the opportunity to kill him, and didn’t take it.

Ben’s heart twists around.

He knows what’s happening to him already.

The General is a handsome, troubled man that doesn’t think Ben is a freak show, or science experiment gone wrong for his powers, he’s intellectual, intimidating, can hold his own… and he might not admit it, but his heart is not on the side of the enemy. 

Ben can’t be sure when, or why, but he knows that if he’d fainted the first night in the trench, he’d be a dead man. 

His blaster is untouched, in his holster, and his hair is smooth from having been brushed by someone’s fingers.

“Is it okay for me to call you 'Hux?'”

“May as well,” Hux replies, leaning back against some bark, and arched ground, “Titles don’t mean much for dead men, do they?”

“You know… if you defected, they wouldn’t kill you.”

Hux laughs - it’s a sharp, sad thing. 

Ben steels himself, and offers his hand to shake, “I’m Ben. Ben Solo. It wasn’t nice to meet you, but it’s been nice getting to know you, Hux.”

First glaring at the proffered hand, Hux cocks a curious brow before deciding to take it.

He has a firm, gentleman’s grip. He’s like a show dog.

Ben’s heart inexplicably aches for the man.

“My gratitude to you for healing me, Ben Solo,” Hux tells him.

“My pleasure, Hux,” Ben answers honestly.

 

* * *

 

Strange, how being shoved together in discomfort, hunger, dehydration - how the need to survive can drive two people to find any way to connect.

Ben is the one more desperate for connection - he can tell. The way Hux often rolls his eyes, or scoffs at personal anecdotes, questions, or jokes, implies he’s spent most of his life alone, and likes it that way.

He never has any jokes, or personal stories to trade.

The only story he does share is about his dearly beloved cat. Through vague description, Ben comes to understand that cat may be Hux’s only friend in the galaxy. 

The sad look in his eyes pisses Hux off, though, and he doesn’t speak for the rest of the evening.

 

* * *

 

“Hux - Hux, it’s stopped raining.”

“Hmm?” Hux mumbles, opening his eyes slowly.

It’s bizarrely endearing.

“It’s, uhm… time for me to… uhm, arrest you. I guess.”

Hux shuts his eyes again, lolls his head back, and responds evenly, “thwarted by Ben Solo. At least you’re a Force-user. My demise won’t be completely pitiful in the news if it’s implied you used your preternatural powers to kill, or capture me. Please do make it sound good.”

Ben’s shoulders stiffen, he glances around, and then says uncertainly, “c-come home with me.”

“What?”

Ben straightens out his dirty shirt, and says, “I think you should come home with me. I won’t take you to the base. My mother, General Organa - she’ll be there, but she won’t hurt you.”

“What plant did you eat?”

Rolling his eyes, Ben says, “I’m not high! Listen - if you arrive with me, no one will harm you. Defect, Hux. It’s that, or be killed.”

“Death before dishonor,” Hux replies hotly.

“Don’t be difficult about this,” Ben pleads, “I… I could protect you. If you just come with me.”

“You can forget about it, Solo. Put that blaster to the side of my head if you want to hand down a mercy.”

“I can’t kill you.”

“What sort of rebel are you?” Hux asks rhetorically.

“The sort that unfortunately grows attached too quickly,” Ben admits, glaring down at Hux, “If you defect, you can come home with me, and I’ll protect you. Give us information - you know all the in’s and out’s of the Order, how it operates, what weapons are in production - you could be granted clemency.”

“I don’t want your pity.”

The tone in which Hux says that is painful.

Ben’s heart aches again.

He crouches down next to Hux, and takes Hux’s chin in his hand, turning Hux to face him. 

Ben really, really hates when people tell him he’s ‘just like his father,’ but in this moment, he can’t really deny it.

He leans in, and kisses Hux’s lips chastely, pulling away nearly as soon as it’s a kiss at all.

He keeps their faces close, though, and for the first time, he can really see emotion playing in Hux’s eyes.

There’s hope for Hux. Ben knows it. He can feel it.

“Come home with me,” Ben asks again, “I don’t pity you, Hux. I respect you.”

Hux’s eyes flicker back, and forth between Ben’s, and Ben says again, quietly, “come home with me.”

Hux’s hesitation is almost tangible. His eyes are glassy.

Ben has never seen them look so human before.

“Okay.”

Ben’s face splits into a grin, “yeah?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Hux sneers, pushing Ben’s face away, “don’t look at me with that ridiculous face.”

Ben laughs, taking Hux’s hands in his, “thank you, Hux. I promise to save Millicent, too.”

Hux’s eyes widen at this promise, his jaw loosens, and his cheeks flush. It’s _adorable,_ and Ben hates himself for thinking that.

This man is a mass-murderer - he just so happens to like his cat.

That shouldn’t be as moving as it is.

“You will?”

“I swear it.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Hux asks, allowing Ben to help him stand up.

Ben looks him over, and says, “you’re taller than I expected you to be.”

Hux scowls up at him from under his brow, “shut up, Solo.”


End file.
